I read an interesting heart breaking blog once in a while. I can’t do it often. It tears at my soul. It’s the story of a family who lost a child. And who are trying to keep moving forward. And it kills me to read.

Today I had a kind of hard appointment. My son’s special ed team thinks it’s a good idea for him to go to summer camps – you know – stay socialized, etc. And honestly we would both go crazy if we were home all summer together. Last year we did a very nice rec center camp series, but this year I am going to be gone for a whole week (which didn’t go well last year) and I think it’s better to have consistency. So I went to a preschool that is close by and has a summer camp. And told them my concerns. I have learned it’s better to be honest. What he needs. What he does that he needs help with. About his eating – and can I bring his own food – which I can if I have a Dr’s note, but they’d like him to at least sit with the other kids and let them put the food in front of him that they are serving to the other kids “who knows? maybe he will try it.” I assure you he will not and this will lead to more consternation than is worth it – and he is on a waiting list to get into a feeding clinic for this very problem with REAL professionals – doctors and OT’s and such. BUT ok – you know best, I am sure….

And then I read this.


Tonight it tore at me again. She writes about her son playing baseball. And the change that occurred throughout the baseball years. She writes of her son, who was not perfect. She writes of his getting upset at birthday parties, having meltdowns when he didn’t win a baseball game, not playing with anyone at recess, needing everything to be “just so.”

And I see some of my son’s traits in her writing. The traits that I worry so much about, and the ones I hope we can help him make into good, wonderful assets.

And then she writes about how by second grade he had started to use his uniqueness to make more friends and find where he belonged. And the struggles with baseball. And her wonderful friend who said ““Don’t worry, gifted kids are just more sensitive, Anna.” at a game where he was melting down.

And then she writes about how her son’s little league group wants to make a special “sportsmanship” award in his name, because of how far he came and how hard he worked to be a better team player.

And I THANK THANK THANK everything there is out there to thank – the universe, the lucky stars, any gods that might be listening – THANK YOU that my son is still here to struggle. And to grow. And to teach me that it is NOT perfection or hope of fitting in, or hope of getting him through one more day with a “good job” from a teacher that matters. But that he is a wonderful, kind, giving, lovely soul that matters. And that he is here, in my life, and I in his, that matters. THANK YOU!

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